What A Morning Begins With
by Little Wo
Summary: Background: soulmate!au where a touch of your soulmate leaves a coloured mark on your skin, and the stain lingers there for a while. Summary: McCoy loves Kirk's lips; Kirk loves morning sex. Warning: "plot? what plot?" & some coarse language.


**_Quite a contrast to the previous fic, I believe._**

* * *

Leonard saw Jim in his dream, as usual. This time the whole thing was about Jim's lips. In his sleep, Leonard knew, or thought he knew, the simple fact that Jim always kept his mouth open or his lips apart, at least; more often than not it was just a little gap, so that no one would believe if you told them, so that only you could ever notice if you often watched Jim closely and for a really long time. To cut a long story short, only a soulmate could possess, and appreciate, such knowledge. And it was Bones who happened to be Jim's one.

Jim did everything in that dream. There was nothing really hot, though; it was rather like Leonard recalled, one after another, all the ways he remembered those lips, or watched a film about them, something like that. Jim was laughing, licking his lips, smiling; Jim was biting his lip, deep in his thoughts; Jim was excitedly babbling some story; Jim was crawling from under their blanket, muttering "shh, sleep, I'll be back in a minute", and walking away barefoot; though maybe that wasn't a part of the dream, which hardly mattered. Jim was whispering his name by syllables, over and over again; breathing against Leonard's lips, his mouth open and teasing, not allowing to kiss him yet; licking his lips after eating something sweet and sticky, the tip of his tongue sticking out, his face so very concentrated. Jim...

Jim was climbing back onto the bed, tugging at the blanket and shoving it aside. Water was dripping from his hair now and then – just after a shower? – leaving not much hope for Leonard that it was still a dream. He opened his eyes.

Jim was standing next to him, one of his feet still on the floor, his hands on the messed-up blanket. He answered McCoy's glare with a huge smile, suggesting that fury shown when sleepy was far from annihilating.

"I don't want to know if it's morning already," McCoy grunted, seeking safety under his pillow. Jim dug him back up in no time and stunned him with a bold kiss. Leonard felt awake immediately.

When Jim unbent and looked at Bones again, there was a yellow and crimson stain on his lips which bore a smirk convincing Leonard that his own lips were coloured no less brightly. The latter pressed his fingers against his mouth, as if still hoping that the mark could be wiped away at will.

"You heartless thing," he muttered, smiling in spite of himself, "I've got four lectures today from morning on. You want me to go there like this?"

"Don't go, then," Jim smiled and leaned in again. Bones grabbed his pajamas, dropped him on the bed and rolled on top of him to give away some kisses, colouring his face and his neck. He brushed his tongue along Jim's clavicle, leaving a beautiful turquoise trace, and murmured into his ear in his sweetest voice:

"Fuck you, Kirk."

"Fuck me, Bones," Jim breathed out, shivering a little, his leg already on top of Leonard.

McCoy gulped. It was difficult to resist one's soulmate, and almost impossible with such a pushy one. Still, he tried to be reasonable:

"I tell you, there's four lectures... You have something like that, too?"

"D' you think I remember?" the reply was. Jim could not stop his voice from trembling when his hand glided down Leonard's back. Not like he was insisting or even giving a hug, and surely his fingers were sliding under Leonard's t-shirt in the most innocent manner...

Bones himself didn't understand if he cursed or not; the movement of his lips was stopped against the other's mouth, anyway. And it was too late to swear if he knew his soulmate loved a morning screw above all and, though usually attentive, even ignored his constant grudges against the "war paint" for the sake of his own fancy. It was in the morning, between those damnable kisses, that Leonard would remember the suggestions that one felt their right partner's touch better and liked it more; it was always so arousing, enough to make you forget any previous experience. There was no doubt Jim shared this opinion; he started to behave himself really fast and only strained his neck under Leonard's bites, and moaned, and tossed. Climbing out of his tee, he gave McCoy a wild shining glance, telling without words that he was so overheated he could jump out of his pants as well, do-something-already-you-idiot. When they got out of their clothes, somehow still clinging to each other, they both were so obviously horny that McCoy could but reach out for lube.

He was again under the impression from his dream, and the careful, easy movements did not distract him from gazing at Jim's lips. Firstly, Kirk panted and jerked his hips sharply now and then, trying to steal some more pleasure, and stopped chewing his lips only to answer a kiss. It was impossible not to keep kissing him, trying to taste the bright rainbow of marks and leaving new ones. After some time, Kirk's hunger seemed to be gone, and he lowered his head on the pillow, his chin raised a bit, but he licked his lips time after time, leaving them shiny and open.

McCoy wasn't satisfied with the short prelude they'd had. Sure he would want Jim even without any of it, but it was... somewhat _esthetically_ inappropriate. It was weird to have sex with someone and not see colourful spots over their chest and stomach. He could not resist the temptation to leave a mark here, and here, and stroke the other's neck, and rub at his nipples, feeling him tremble from that, and then to trace the tips of his ribs, heading lower. And Leonard felt it necessary to wrap his fingers around Jim's cock (the gesture felt so natural the very fact of it made him lose his head) and move his hand, just once or twice; hardly more, because he wanted to hear Jim whining and moaning, not cursing him with most interesting words. And also, he should touch Jim's solar plexus, and feel his heartbeat...

They both needed to feel not only the sliding and the hardening thrusts but also something more complex, light and tart, dizzying. Leonard knew exactly what Jim liked, and ran his fingers over the right spots, as if once more mapping them, feeling acutely the thrill of his partner's body. Jim did repay him, squeezing his knuckles into Bones' back, not allowing himself to scratch him yet; catching the dark sweaty hair with his fingers to take a kiss, running his tongue over his own flipping lips covered with marks that overlapped one another. When Leonard bit gently at Jim's earlobe, Jim suddenly moaned loudly, stirring his red-hot lover ever more, and arched his back to sense the quickening rhythm better.

...Jim quitted torturing his lips and how breathed through open mouth, inhaling desperately and exhaling hoarsely and deeply. Leonard kept touching Jim's lips with his, but those were not kisses, he had grown too impatient for that. He wanted to clench his teeth to fight back his own moans, and now was giving his patience a try, sucking and biting Jim's lips, and proceeding occasionally to the partner's neck and shoulders, dropping hot breath onto his skin like melted wax and wondering at the lack of any traces from that. He listened to the shuddering sound of Jim's breath shaded a little with louder sounds, and stared persistently at his lips that quivered from any touch.

Something was starting to boil inside Bones. His patience was eluding him, and not only because of his own arousal: Jim was making such juicy whining noises, his eyes almost on Leonard but out of focus. They were making each other's pleasure stronger, reflecting it again and again – do you feel that? and you? – and it was still growing because of their connection that could be almost felt physically at the moment. There was the whole world, distant and unimportant; and here were the two of them.

"Leo," Jim sobbed softly, his facial expression so helpless that it was clear he was about to come. He whispered something else inaudibly and chewed his lip.

Bones stopped abruptly, clenching the bedsheet hard to regain control over his body. Jim gasped and gulped in agony:

"What... the... Keep g-going, damn you..."

McCoy was far from rushing to it. He caressed Jim's neck with his lips and gave it a proper bite, leaving another blazing hickey. The trace's colour was violet, so pastel-shaded it seemed to taste like candy on his lips. He wanted to kiss it for a long, long time and then, finally, tell Jim that he tasted like, say, lavender drops- Well, no, it didn't work. Jim moaned out loud and moved forth, and McCoy gave in; his body could not help answering. He thought feebly that Jim wouldn't be quick to forgive him another pause, and his head went empty.

Bones reached out for a kiss when Jim opened his puffy lips, but was nearly hit in the nose with Jim's chin when he threw his head back. In orgasm, his face looked as if he felt unbelievable pleasure and a terrible torture at the same time. He'd just scratched McCoy's shoulder but was now holding it just with his fingertips, as if seeking to feel his beloved next to him in the moment of utter defencelessness. He froze, then whimpered a bit, moved his hips convulsively for a number of times, and went limp.

Those quiet moans always drove Bones crazy. He caught Jim's face into his hands and kissed him, rough and imperative. Jim hugged him a little, and the weak touch of his arms felt sweeter than a most skillful petting on Leonard's shoulders. McCoy tangled his fingers into Jim's hair, pressing his mouth against the other's lips, kissing them as long as he could, and trusting them with his moan, his shiver and his weakness when the fever got him, too.

...Many, many blessed lazy seconds went by before their hot heads and bodies went cooler, bringing the two back into reality. Jim rolled over and settled his chin on his arm, looking like he was going to lie like that forever. His lips now were closed firmly, it occurred to McCoy. Then it also occurred to him to notice the colour spectrum of his mate's face, though he didn't really want to look in the mirror yet.

They touched each other and intertwined their fingers. As usual, Leonard felt surprised at their name marks; these, a rigorous-looking L with two little loops on Jim's wrist and a quick J on his own one, could never be covered with marks of any other sort, whatever you did. As a matter of fact, he thought it was sweet. He kissed Jim's wrist, but he only grinned at it:

"I'd think you just kissed yourself."

Bones kissed his own wrist obediently, though the name's owner hardly could notice that, and raised himself on his elbow to kiss his lover's shoulder and shoulder blade. Looking at his back, he chuckled, pleased to see a magnificent, all-ultramarine palmprint on Jim's butt. How accurate the lines were! He could have that thing fingerprinted, "if-lost-return-to", eh?

It took him a while to pay any mind to the wakeup call beeping.

The wakeup call? Wait a minute, what time is it?

"Do we think it's time to get up and get stuff done, or do we lie on a bit?" Jim looked so relaxed and calm, and so innocent you wouldn't believe he'd just got... _quite_ laid.

"Waaait. So you waked me earlier than usual? And we're not even being late?" Bones looked at him, growing more and more suspicious.

"No, there's plenty o' time, why? Wanna repeat?"


End file.
